Tantrum

Written yesterday at work –

I don’t know why I’m so stumped on my writing. I’m at work right now, taking my break. I try, most days, to do my writing on my forty minutes off. But lately I’ve been acting like a petulant child out here in the empty foyer.

Bah! Bad words! Don’t like these words, give me something else. Mom! Tell her to stop!

I stamp my feet. Aargh.

Yep, throwing a little tantrum out here right now. Not happy. Don’t know why. I just DON’T KNOW where the novel’s going. I know the end is close, the denoument is approaching, and I don’t know what it is. The characters are bugging the hell out of me.

You know those Tuesday mornings, when you wake up and your stomach kind of hurts, and your back is stiff, and when you put the lipstick on, you’re totally aware that your skin kinda looks gray? And there’s not enough milk for cereal, and there’s no cream for the coffee, and you stub your toe on the door while you’re carrying out the cat litter? And the cat’s whining and yelling and there’s absolutely no goddamn reason for her to do that, and your house is a mess, and you have absolutely no will to clean it?

That’s what writing feels like right now. I’m going through the motions. I’m writing because I promise myself I will write. I didn’t even write at all yesterday, and I’m feeling guilty about it. So I’m in the writing blahs AND I have guilt.

And I’m not even writing right now. I’m writing this blabber to make myself feel better, but I still have to close it up and get back to the real writing, which I DON’T WANT TO DO!

Raspberry blowing. And not in the good way.

Foot stamp. Why can’t writing be more like knitting?

– Later – You know what? That little tantrum helped. Just did my writing. I don’t hate it. It was kind of fun. It’s usually kind of fun. It’s just getting my ass into the writing seat that’s the hard part. I need to throw more tantrums.